


Cosmic Waste

by grumpyhedgehogs



Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, Star Wars: The Clone Wars (2008) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon, Angst, Angst and Feels, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Bittersweet Ending, Broken Families, Canon-Typical Violence, Crisis of Faith, Dimension Travel, Dysfunctional Family, Emotional Manipulation, Families of Choice, Family Drama, Family Feels, Force Bond (Star Wars), Force Ghost Qui-Gon Jinn, Force Shenanigans, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Having Faith, Healing, Heavy Angst, Hopeful Ending, Hurt Obi-Wan Kenobi, Hurt/Comfort, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi, Kinda, Manipulative Relationship, Morality, Obi-Wan Kenobi Needs a Hug, Obi-Wan Kenobi is a Mess, Obi-Wan may get a hug, Platonic Relationships, Platonic Soulmates, Possessive Behavior, Post-Star Wars: Revenge of the Sith, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Qui-Gon Jinn, Protectiveness, Psychological Drama, Sith Anakin Skywalker, Sith Empire, Sith Qui-Gon Jinn, Skywalker Family Drama, Suitless Darth Vader, The Dark Side of the Force, The Light Side of the Force, This Is Not Going To Go The Way You Think, Time Travel, Trauma, Unhealthy Coping Mechanisms, Unhealthy Relationships, Vaderkin, be safe while reading fic, but it might be from a sith, but platonic love is still love, he'll take what he can get, or quiobi, please read the warnings, probably not going to be vaderwan, so ya know, sorry - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-27
Updated: 2020-05-05
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:20:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,690
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21983560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/grumpyhedgehogs/pseuds/grumpyhedgehogs
Summary: Darth Vader has mourned the loss of his Jedi Master for years since the rise of the Sith Empire. When he gets the inexplicable chance to have what he once lost, he grabs hold with both hands.Meanwhile, the Force has sent out a dire message to the hearts of those once thought gone: Obi-Wan Kenobi is wasting away. This cannot stand.And Obi-Wan? Well, he really never asked for any of this. He gets it all anyway.
Relationships: 212th Attack Battalion & Obi-Wan Kenobi, CC-2224 | Cody & Obi-Wan Kenobi, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Ahsoka Tano, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Anakin Skywalker, Obi-Wan Kenobi & CT-7567 | Rex, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Darth Vader, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Everyone, Obi-Wan Kenobi & Luke Skywalker, Qui-Gon Jinn & Obi-Wan Kenobi
Comments: 66
Kudos: 650





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I've lurked in the Star Wars community for years and I am finally dipping my toes in the water. I absolutely adore Obi-Wan (second in my heart only to Luke Skywalker by a very thin margin) and there can never be too much Obi-Wan Angst in this fandom. But I have run out of good fics to read (and re-read) so I just had to make more myself. Be the change you want to see in the world.
> 
> There is a loose outline for this fic, but I would love any and all feedback. I have not written for these characters before now.
> 
> (also if you have any recommendations for Obi-Wan fics, throw them my way!)

Vader can be forgiven for not realizing the fact that this is, in fact, reality and not a dream purely based on the fact that half his nightmares start on Tatooine. The shift of sand beneath his boots, the heat trapped against his skin underneath his dark robes, the light piercing into his retinas; it’s all exactly as he’s dreamed ever since Qui-Gon Jinn and Obi-Wan Kenobi saved him from this pitiful planet. He’s striven to tear away from the terrible excuse he had for an existence ever since he left and now here he is, back where he started.

Or, not exactly where he started. Anakin Skywalker never once tread foot in the Sand Wastes, the stories his mother was willing to let slip enough to terrify the stupid child he had been away from the edge of unknown territory. Maybe if he’d been here long as a young man, maybe if he’d come back after the Jedi Order fell, maybe then he would have--

But that’s not true. Vader knows it as soon as he turns his thoughts to the concept; he’d never out of his own volition enter the Sand Wastes. It was one piece of advice his mother gave him that stuck with him through his Fall. 

_‘The Sand Wastes can drive the sanest man mad.’_

Vader can still hear his mother’s voice when he looks about him; the dunes stretch on for miles as a glance, and heat rises off them in sickeningly thick waves. As he wipes sweat from his brow, Vader watches in fascination as the drops of moisture simply evaporates right off of his glove. This desert wrings a person out like a sponge, and the Wastes are the worst of it.

If he touches any part of his own skin with his mech hand, Vader muses, he might burn right through to flesh at this point. He’ll have to get out of the heat soon or risk heatstroke and an addled mind from the sun.

_If only Master could see me now he’d laugh himself into a heart attack, the old fool,_ Vader thinks and must resist the urge to hiss in anger. He’s not sure exactly what’s happening here, why this dream has lasted so long, but he’s had enough of these games. His Master is manipulative at best and sadistic at worst (not that that’s a very far stretch) and he knows if anyone is behind his consciousness’s sudden ability to produce truly vivid horrors, it is his Master.

_Obi-Wan used to keep our quarters close to freezing,_ says a traitorous little voice in the back of his mind, one that has persisted in becoming louder and louder these few weeks, and Vader smothers it with righteous vigor. But it always comes back. 

_He’d keep blankets on the couch for when you were cold; he’d say-_

“It’s easier to come in out of the cold than to escape the heat within,” Vader mutters. “Yeah, yeah. Fat lot of good that wisdom did him in the end.”

The old ache in his chest throbs with new life at the thought and Vader crushes that ruthlessly, too.

Presently, he stops. His thoughts are too emotional and he’s not looking where he’s going and by the Force, will this blasted sand ever _end?_ The horizon seems to stretch for miles.

_Focus. Pull yourself out of this._

He’s had enough of this game. When he wakes up, he and his Master will certainly have words.

_The old man’s getting to be too much trouble than he’s worth anyway._

Vader closes his eyes, breathes deeply and lets the Force roll over him. In his sleep it should at least be muffled, but his connection is as loud as ever. The Force pulls at his mind, swirling around and through the Sith. Vader almost smiles, but some strange feeling simply refuses to let him sink into the Force.

_What--_

The Force is dark, as it has been since that fateful day all those years ago-- but this darkness is _true._ It feeds into his anger, his pain simmering too close to the surface and instead of reflecting it back off of the Light of a surviving few, swallows Vader’s emotions with a hunger that speaks of a deep wealth of rage, an all-consuming pool of Dark that threatens to devour the world. 

Vader almost jumps at the revelation, his training sessions with his new Master the only thing that stops him from stumbling back in shock.

The Force has never belonged so fully to the Dark when he has been alive; it has been very grey, of course, but the few lights left in the galaxy-- Yoda, for one, although Vader also suspects Mace Windu and Shaak Ti might have made it out alive, to say nothing of Ahsoka-- are bright and burning, lighting the path of the Jedi through the darkness. 

Or they _were_ bright. This Dark is something completely unfamiliar. It licks at his consciousness, seeps in and twists about Vader’s heart, trying to whisper poison in his ears. He feels his own power in the Force surge in response and knows without seeing that his eyes flare orange where they are usually gleaming yellow. 

Vader forces the Dark Side back, ripping free of its seduction as he physically thrusts himself forward, only his years of experience stopping him from falling face first into the scalding sands. He has never felt this way; he has never needed to separate himself from the Force, Light or Dark; he has always been in control, always had the ability to bend the Force to his will, has never been overwhelmed by its power. Now, Vader feels very close to an edge he previously never would have considered existed. 

_There’s something wrong here._

_This is not home._

_You’re not dreaming_.

“Yeah, no banthakark,” Vader mutters to himself. The Dark sings around him, responding to his ample connection to the Force, and Vader is left with no choice but to accept that this is reality. Something has happened when he wasn’t looking-- possibly the meddling of his Master, or possibly Vader was too deep in his meditation to recognize a Force nexus opening close by, and wouldn’t Obi-Wan get a laugh out of that-- 

_Obi-Wan._

An old instruction, given with a sense of safety and comfort, floats through Vader’s mind. _‘Search your feelings, padawan. Trust in the Force.’_

Without a second thought, Vader does. Ready as he is now, the Force cannot make the Sith falter underneath it’s pull. He resists the undertow, searching, looking, hoping to find what he has not in all this time.

A brief, bright spark in the Darkness. A star about to go out, a candle burning too low, guttering. A warmth that melts the ice in Vader’s bones, a sense of such grief it chokes him.

The Force sings in Vader’s heart and the Dark Side recedes in a way Vader has not felt since-- since--

_Where? Where, after all these years--_

In the end, he is so very close.

The Darkness Vader thought just moments ago to be all-encompassing is banished even further from the Sand Wastes as he locks eyes with the man Vader had thought all but lost.

He crosses three sand dunes in a matter of seconds, his childhood memories making it easy for him not to sink into the sands that want to suck him in, wring his bones dry. But as he bounds across the Sand Wastes, Vader cannot appreciate the deadly nature of his home, cannot think about his new Master’s mechanisms, the fact this may be a test or a punishment or a dream--

Because here he is. Here is Obi-Wan Kenobi.

He is almost exactly as Vader remembers; his hair shines copper and golden in the light of twin suns Vader never wanted to shine upon his old Master. His eyes are the brightest blue Vader has ever seen. His palms are worn but soft and Vader knows what their weight will feel like when they rest on his shoulders. His robe is dusty, but underneath all the dirt, it is brown and familiar and comfortably threadbare.

He is almost exactly as Vader never wished he was; his mouth is a thin line, his brow is wrinkled and strained, his face is gaunt. His shoulders hold some great, terrible weight he cannot let slip, even for a moment. There is tragedy etched in his every line. He is battle-worn and tired and so very alone.

Obi-Wan, who had up until the moment Vader moved been watching from a distance, startles back now as Vader lands before him. Sand sprays out from beneath his boots and Obi-Wan jerks in surprise as the dust billows between them, head turning as if looking for somewhere to run, somewhere to flee. Vader steps towards him again, hands coming up to waist height-- he doesn’t know what he wants to do just yet-- but Kenobi throws his own hand forward.

“Don’t,” he rasps and oh, but his voice is just as Vader remembers it, “I know-- what you are. You’re not him. You can’t trick me into thinking you-- that you’re--”

His Master never stumbled over his words. Poised, precise, Jedi Master Obi-Wan Kenobi could cut a man to pieces with a few well-placed words. This man--

_This is not your home._

_This is not your Obi-Wan._

_Isn’t he?_

“You’re not Anakin Skywalker,” the man who could be no one but Obi-Wan Kenobi says. His hand never strays towards his lightsaber even as Lord Vader approaches slowly. His eyes are sharp, though, and follow the Sith’s every move intently. “You are not my Anakin.”

“No.” Vader takes a great risk to rest a palm as gently as he can against the Jedi’s face. The black of his clothes looks so dark against his pale cheek.

“But you,” Vader decides, feeling the Dark in him swell with a roar of satisfaction, “are _my_ Obi-Wan.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Obi-Wan deals with trauma by running away. Vader won't let him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Features an obviously grieving Obi-Wan who acts out of character depending on how you look at it. I think it's actually pretty understandable.

“ _ No _ .”

Obi-Wan rips away from him. The violence of the action is enough to surprise Vader into silence-- but only for a moment. Then irritation itches at the back of his throat, and Vader takes a step forward again, maybe a little more threateningly than he means to.

But this has the Jedi Master backs away even faster, going as far as letting his balance slip as he stumbles backward down the dune they’re standing on. He wobbles, and a precarious moment passes where he is neither standing nor falling. It is as if time slows down for Vader as he watches Obi-Wan’s eyes widen in realization too late and his old Master--  _ but he’s not, he’s not yours _ \-- slips away.

_ No. Never again. _

Vader almost doesn’t catch him in time. Their hands catch as his old Master struggles to regain his once well-honed balance. Even through his glove, Vader can feel the warmth of Obi-Wan Kenobi’s palm, the weight of his hand, all muscle and sinew and bone, the press of living flesh--

It’s almost too much as Vader closes greedy fingers around Obi-Wan’s hand. The Force sings within him-- his Master is here, he’s  _ alive _ . He’s here and he’s touching Vader and it doesn’t matter where here is or when they are or what in all the Sith hells is happening because Vader has Obi-Wan right here in his hands.

Then Obi-Wan’s eyes widen further before narrowing and he suddenly reverses his hold on Vader, grips his wrist and pulls. The Force tries to issue a sharp warning to him but Vader is too slow for the Jedi who raised him, and Obi-Wan is able to haul him off balance. He knows this trick-- it’s an easy one they teach all the Padawans practically on day one, but his Master is smart. He knew Anakin Skywalker better than anyone, knew he could get caught up in his own brilliance and bravado and forget that sometimes the simplest solutions are the most elegant.

Anakin Skywalker, the silly fool, would have fallen for this trick and gone sprawling across the sands long enough for Obi-Wan to beat a hasty retreat to wherever he came from in this wasteland.

Darth Vader is not Anakin Skywalker.

As Obi-Wan hooks a foot around Vader’s right ankle, seeking to buckle his leg out from under him and throw Vader down the dune in his own place, Vader leans into it. He keeps a firm grasp on Obi-Wan’s hand and, with the speed of a striking viper, locks his other arm around the older man’s shoulders. He shoves forward and when Obi-Wan manages to topple him from his position on the higher ground, he slams his body weight into the other. 

If he’s going down, he’d rather take Obi-Wan with him.

His grip is strong and true. Even as Obi-Wan tries to twist to the side, struggling to free himself from Vader’s free-fall, Vader keeps him close. They both tip over with less grace than a Jedi or a Sith would be proud of, but out here in the Sand Wastes Vader isn’t even sure something like Jedi or Sith can really exist.

For the next minute the world narrows down to a confusing tangle of limbs and tumbling and Vader can only focus on not losing track of the man he has crushed against his chest. Eventually the dune levels out and their roll slows down. Vader ends up on his back, gasping and spitting out sand and not for the first time cursing the twin suns of Tatooine.

Whatever this dream world is-- Force-made or a nightmare sent by his new Master-- he wishes it could’ve had the decency not to let sand get into his robes so easily.

But he takes too long contemplating his situation. Obi-Wan seems to regain his wits quickly and, with a knee jabbed into Vader’s thigh-- he strikes the nerve there and the whole leg numbs and Force damn it was Kenobi always this _stubborn?_ \-- he manages to tear himself free from Vader’s durasteel hold.

Vader gets his elbow beneath him in time to see Kenobi rising to his knees, hand hovering above his ‘saber and looking ready to flee.

That will certainly not do.

The Dark Side sings sweetly to him and Vader doesn’t think twice in reaching out and taking hold of it. Kenobi’s lightsaber flies from where it has been hooked on his belt and lands securely in Vader's open palm. He hooks it to his own belt with practiced ease and smiles victoriously at the stunned look on Kenobi’s face.

“A wise man once told me never to lose my lightsaber. He said it was my life.” Vader tilts his head and even though he should be angry at Obi-Wan’s obstinance, at the fact that Vader knows it will not be an easy fight to get his old Master to listen, at the fact that Kenobi is somehow not dead and Vader never knew, at the fact that Vader is very obviously far from home, but in spite of it all, he cannot help but smile. “I believe that means your life is now in my hands, isn’t it, Master?”

He rises to his knees too, still filled with vicious, greedy pleasure and drinks in his Obi-Wan’s expression. The Jedi seems unsure now-- he’s flicking his gaze between Vader’s own face, his ‘saber hidden somewhere in the folds of Vader’s cloak, and strangely, his own hands. 

“Now that your life is mine,” Vader says and he can’t help the little taut, it’s so very easy to slip back into teasing Obi-Wan, like slipping on a well-worn glove, “I wonder what I should do with it. Any ideas?”

“You touched me,” Obi-Wan says. His voice is low.

Vader feels a little of Anakin rise then, and lets his brow crinkle in confusion. “Wha- yes?”

Obi-Wan is preoccupied with looking at his own hands now, specifically the palm Vader had caught with his own. He touches his cheek. His gaze lasts for a thousand yards. “You can touch me.”

“I know you have personal space issues,” Vader echoes Anakin’s thoughts in his head, too uncomfortable with the strange turn of events to push them back from spilling out of his mouth, “but don’t you think you’re taking it a bit far? We both could’ve been injured in that fall.”

But Kenobi isn’t listening as his head drops, chin coming to rest on his chest. He digs his hands into the sand as if trying to bury himself. His shoulders shake. He looks smaller than he ever has, none of his usual pride and decorum to be found. This is not a Jedi Master. This is a broken man. Whatever happened here-- whoever this Obi-Wan is, he's older and sadder and more broken than Vader's Obi-Wan ever was.

Concern curls icy fingers in Vader’s chest and he tips up on his knees, ready to-- do _something_ , anything if only Obi-Wan would look at him. “Obi-Wan?”

“Seven years,” Obi-Wan muffles out. He raises his head and--  _ Sweet Force _ .

Vader’s heart jumps in his chest. Kenobi’s expression-- he looks like someone cracked open his chest and hollowed him out. 

There are tears streaming from the corners of his eyes but he doesn’t seem to notice. He’s looking at Vader but Vader can see the emptiness in his gaze; he’s not really seeing him. Old anger wants to flare up at that, wants to make Obi-Wan _see him Force damn it all_ , but he can't. Not when Obi-Wan is laughing like that.

It starts low, a few hysterical giggles but once he’s begun Kenobi doesn’t seem to be able to stop. It rises in pitch until he’s near howling, the line between sobbing and laughter blurred. His smile is the worst thing Vader has ever seen.

“Stop it,” Vader snaps, perturbed. 

Kenobi raises his arms and clenches his fists in his hair. He’s still laughing.

Vader darts forward and has the front of Obi-Wan’s tunics in his hands before he even realizes he’s decided to get physical. He can’t stop himself from shaking the man, not as rough as he usually is, but enough to get his attention. _ “Stop it!” _

Obi-Wan cuts himself off abruptly, breath hitching audibly. His eyes are so wide and blue and clear that for a second, Vader is at a loss for words.

Kenobi’s hands fall and rest, curled and docile as they never have been in Vader’s life, around Vader’s own fists. Not pushing away, not pulling back. Just there.

“Seven years,” Obi-Wan repeats softly. That lost look in his face intensifies and he’s _ still not seeing Vader _ . “That’s all it took for me to lose my mind.”


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Night falls. So do Obi-Wan's hopes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I went to the new Star Wars movie finally today. That's all I have to say about that.  
> But I do have to note that one of my favorite things about the sequels is watching new Star Wars fans go insane over mistakes/bad writing/basic Star Wars ridiculousness they haven't been numbed to like the rest of us have. Here's the basic rules everyone should know as Star Wars fans: take what you like, forget what you don't and ignore the authors and directors at all costs. We as a fandom as simply vultures picking at Star Wars' dead carcass. We use the juicy bits and bury the rest.  
> Enjoy! I'm going back to classes in a few days so uploads will be sporadic.

_Black,_ Darth Vader decides, _is very much not Obi-Wan Kenobi’s color._ There is something wrong about seeing the Jedi Master shrouded in dark cloth, as if the color itself seeks to smother the light out of him. It is preposterous, of course, but Obi-Wan’s penchant for creams and beiges meant that black makes him look pale and sickly. 

There isn’t much for it, though, when his old Master starts to shiver violently after his (admittedly melodramatic) proclamation about his own sanity. Even in the scorching heat of Tatooine’s twin suns, the older man begins to tremble, teeth chattering loudly. It's shock, Vader knows, but that doesn’t make seeing Obi-Wan this way any easier.

_ I suppose I should be more excited to see evidence that Kenobi is not the perfect Jedi he always pretended to be,  _ Vader thinks. He pushes the notion away almost as soon as it floated through his mind. No matter who or when or where he was, Obi-Wan Kenobi simply could not help but be the best the Jedi had to offer. 

He proves that when Vader moves to wrap his cloak around Obi-Wan; the Jedi startles, shoving at Vader’s shoulder so unexpectedly that Vader falls back on his haunches with a grunt. Obi-Wan scrambles to his feet in a second, still shaking. Vader rises too, slowly and with his hands held out to the sides. 

“I’m only trying to help you, Obi-Wan.”

“Jedi do not accept help from Sith,” Obi-Wan intones and his voice is almost back to normal.

“What about,” Vader asks carefully, “help from a friend?”

Lying to Obi-Wan always left Anakin with a sick pit in his stomach and Vader finds he too is not unaffected, feeling bile pucker his throat. But needs must, and without help, Kenobi has no hope of making it out of this desert on his own. He looks weak, frail, and knowing his old teacher, Vader correctly assumes that he looks better than he feels.

“We are not friends,” Obi-Wan says. He sounds surer of himself now; he draws himself upright, straightens his spine as if ready to carry the responsibility of the Jedi Order on his shoulders alone. But his eyes remain too wide and his lightsaber is still hooked on Vader’s belt.

“You can lie to yourself all you want, Master, but _never_ lie to _me_.” 

Vader grins, a vicious curl of the Dark Side squeezing his heart in his chest as he does. Obi-Wan’s face falls and Vader's heart soars. This time, when he approaches, Obi-Wan only puts up a token fight, stepping back with arms raised as if to defend himself. He flinches a little when Vader brushes his hands over the other’s shoulders, but he ultimately does nothing to stop Vader wrapping his cloak around him. It billows about his old Master, too large by far, and encompasses him in too-dark cloth. He looks dwarfed by it, swamped by Vader.

Something in Vader’s hindbrain purrs at the sight. Obi-Wan’s shivering only grows worse.

“We need to get out of the suns,” Vader decides. If he keeps this light, if he treads carefully Obi-Wan’s mental unbalance, his shock, whatever trauma he’s going through, it could all work in Vader’s favor. 

_ He needs someone to help him, _ the Darkness in Vader whispers.  _ He’s falling apart. He needs someone to protect him.  _

All Darth Vader has ever wanted is the ability to protect the ones he called his. He couldn't do it with his own Master once upon a time; his Obi-Wan was obstinate and combative and too staunch in his beliefs to listen to reason. But _this_ time, with _this_ Obi-Wan, this one who is alone and slowly dying from it, this one who is so obviously not alright, this one might listen to him. If Vader plays his cards right, if he’s careful, if he gives Obi-Wan everything he needs, then-- then--

Then he can make _this_ Obi-Wan  _ his _ Obi-Wan. 

Vader’s heart skips a beat just thinking about it.

“If we stay out here any longer we’ll risk heatstroke. Come along, there are caves everywhere out here; we’ll take shelter in one for the night. It’s almost sunset anyway.”

Obi-Wan still looks unsure, caught off-guard, but he notes the position of the binary suns and nods. He might simply be agreeing because he's in shock, or because he doesn’t have any way to attack the man who looks like his former student or simply because he looks like he hasn’t slept in a week. Whatever the reason, Obi-Wan points the way to a nearby-- as in a few miles off-- shelter silently and Vader falls into step at his side.

_ It’s just like old times.  _

It’s hard to keep his hands to himself when Obi-Wan turns from him, but Vader fights back against the urge to hold on valiantly. _ Slowly, Vader, slowly. He must come to you. _

_ Patience, young padawan. _

Vader shakes off the memories and follows his Old Master out of the Sand Wastes. 

He should be doing a million things right now instead of following Obi-Wan; killing Obi-Wan for his betrayal, torturing him for information about how Vader got to this strangely different-but-the-same world, finding a way back to his own home. He should be looking for the reason the Dark Side is so strong it nearly engulfs Vader himself, he should be finding a way to contact his new Master, he should be--

But there is no place he would rather be right now than the dank, damp little cave Obi-Wan leads him to. There is kindling and flint here already, a blanket and a bedroll leaning against the far wall. There is a set of macrobinoculars beside them that Obi-Wan snatches up instantly. He doesn’t make any move to answer the unspoken question Vader sends into the Force at him. 

Obi-Wan settles at the mouth of the cave, slipping into his customary lotus position and for a moment Vader thinks he might begin to meditate.

_ If he does, I could slip behind his shields,  _ Vader thinks.  _ I could find the cracks in his armor, I know I could. I could **see** him, finally, after all this time-- _

But his overeagerness is only the remnants Anakin Skywalker talking and Vader shakes off the idea as soon as he has it. If he invades Obi-Wan’s mind too soon-- Sith hells, his Master is one of the best in the galaxy at shielding, If Vader Invaded his mind at all-- he’d know. The game would be up before it even began.

But Obi-Wan does not begin his usual meditation. As Vader begins a small fire, he raises the macrobinoculars to his face.

_ What’s he looking for? _

“What are you looking for?”

“Tusken Raiders,” Obi-Wan answers, smooth as ever. But his voice is still rough and he jumps when Vader touches his shoulder with light fingertips. He shakes the hand off and Vader has to restrain his irritation.

_ He’s not used to touch. He looks like he's been alone out here for a long time. _

_ Seven years. _

“You’ve gotten skinny, Master,” Vader says instead of the million other things he could say, and sinks down beside Obi-Wan. He leans in comfortably and resolutely ignores how stiff Obi-Wan’s side is under him. He doesn’t wrap an arm around the Jedi yet, though. That’s too far too soon. “Cody’d have a fit if he saw how boney you’ve gotten.”

“I’m surprised a Sith would care so much about his natural enemy.” But Obi-Wan’s response is a long time in coming, and Vader uses the hesitant pause to check another box off his list. Something like Order Sixty-Six has happened in this world too, if Obi-Wan is unwilling to discuss where Cody is. Honestly, he should’ve known immediately-- there is no way Cody would let Obi-Wan get to this state if he were still in his right mind.

“I’ll always care for you, Obi-Wan,” Vader replies. He doesn’t wait for Obi-Wan’s tongue to untie itself before he reaches over and plucks the macrobinoculars from him. But the view he inspects is as bland as any other: just some little homestead, probably the house of some moisture farmer and his family. Knowing Obi-Wan, he’s probably formed an ill-advised attachment to some backwoods family already.

_ Seven years. _

_ Where is the me of this world? _ Vader wonders. It strikes him that he should’ve thought of this before; never mind what Cody would do if he saw Obi-Wan in this state, if Anakin Skywalker-- or another Darth Vader, if that’s a possibility in this reality-- saw what had happened to his master he’d tear whole planets apart with his bare hands to set it to rights. 

“Come,” Vader orders, tossing the macrobinoculars to the dirt carelessly. “Come to the fire; you’re still shivering and it’s getting colder.”

He lets Obi-Wan have his silence then, lets him stew in his own thoughts. It never was a good idea to try to force a subject with his old master until Obi-Wan was good and ready.

But that grief of his is etched so deeply that Vader can only stand looking at his face for so long.

“You’re not crazy,” he murmurs into the night. A wind blows through the opening of the cave and Vader’s cape swirls lightly around Obi-Wan. He could drink in the sight all day, if only Obi-Wan’s eyes would stop looking so empty.

“What?” Obi-Wan startles out of his reverie. His shivers have stopped but Vader suspects the shock is still working on him. He’s been far away since they got to the cave.

“Out there, when we met. You said--”

“Ah. Yes. Well, thank you for the vote of confidence but you’re mistaken, Anakin.”

“Vader. My name is Vader.” He can’t temper the sharpness out of his voice, can’t smother the flare of hot anger in his chest. Vader killed Skywalker, he crushed the fool in his fist-- he will not be called by his name.

Obi-Wan’s face shutters before he has a chance to smooth it out. “Yes. Vader.”

“But you’re not insane. I’m really here. I don’t know how--”

Obi-Wan is shaking his head and that sad smile is back. Vader wants to wipe it from existence. 

“If I weren’t insane--”

Obi-Wan cuts himself off, and Vader wishes desperately for Anakin Skywalker’s ability to completely disregard awkwardness in any situation so he can reach across the fire and ground his old Master. The fire flickers shadows across Obi-Wan’s face, the flames reflecting eerily in his eyes. His pupils are blown. His skin is sallow. His cheekbones look ready to rip through his skin. 

“If you weren’t insane, what?” Vader prompts. He knows without knowing that he won’t like whatever the rest of this sentence is. But that look on Obi-Wan’s face when he first met Vader’s eyes is still burned into Vader’s retinas-- there had been so much there, fear and anger and so much grief, a surprisingly large amount of guilt--

_ Hope. _ Burning, scalding hope, the sort that wormed its way into a person’s heart when they are at their most desperate and takes up home there, refusing to leave no matter how much of a person's heart you cut out to get rid of it. 

That kind of hope never died, no matter how much pain it caused its host-- and it was the kind that appears in the worst situations, the kind of hope only the helpless hold on to. 

“If I weren’t insane,” Obi-Wan finishes, and this time he raises his eyes to Vader’s and somehow he's looking right into Vader's heart, “I wouldn’t have found Qui-Gon Jinn just as I found you here weeks ago.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy May the 4th! I still have an hour so it totally counts. I definitely planned this.

Vader seethes.

He is getting quite good at seething, really; it’s the one lesson his new Master actually taught him. He’s had a lot of practice.

He waits the night out, fists clenched in his lap. Anakin Skywalker never was very good at meditating, but Vader has had much more patience. Even as his anger flows through him, bolstering him in the Force, he is calm. What was it his Obi-Wan told him once? Still waters run deep?

Vader hates, and he hates deeply. 

Obi-Wan had faltered in his own contemplation of their dying fire somewhere in the wee hours; he’d slumped forwards a little, chin leaning against his chest, as if he were used to sleeping sitting up. Vader is now more sure than ever that the war broke out in this universe; his Master was famous throughout the 212th (and the 501st, for that matter) for his ability to catnap anywhere.

Vader does not sleep. Vader waits. He has also gotten very, very good at waiting. 

_ The Sith do not wait, my apprentice. The Sith see what they like, and  _ **_take it_ ** _. _

No, Vader can’t take this Obi-Wan yet. Anakin Skywalker was a solid strategist, and knew Obi-Wan like the back of his own hand. He knew when to push his buttons to get a reaction, and, just as importantly, when to let Obi-Wan break apart on his own. Vader, in contrast, is simply strong enough to actually let it happen. 

If Obi-Wan is as broken as he says he is, it will not take long. Still, Vader is...unsettled. And that makes him very angry.

A Force Nexus spitting Vader, the most powerful Force-user in history, out here where a version of his old Master needs him is one thing. They were a team, no matter what universe they are in, and so it makes sense that the Force would will them together if need be. But a Force Nexus snatching Qui-Gon Jinn from another reality and shoving him into Obi-Wan’s life here? Why?

Vader suppresses a snort and leans across the dying embers to pull his cloak around his old Master more securely. He stops, fingers curled around the man’s shoulder, when Obi-Wan shifts. But the older man does not wake, and Vader sighs in relief; no matter where Obi-Wan is, he evidently never gets enough rest. 

The wind blowing into their cave has died down now, and Vader can spy stars in the night sky. It will be dawn soon. Obi-Wan will want to go home, supposedly to _ his _ old Master. 

Qui-Gon Jinn was not special. He trained Obi-Wan, and saved Anakin Skywalker from slavery, and once upon a time the man who would become Vader was thankful to him, but facts did not cease to be facts because of gratitude; Jinn was a run-of-the-mill Jedi, through and through. The Force would not have spared him from Maul just to send him to the here and now.

But if that is so--then Obi-Wan may be right about losing his mind. But no matter; the important thing is that Vader has found him. The problem of his sanity can wait for another day. 

Besides, there is the problem of finding a way back that Vader has not addressed yet. For all he knows, there may not be anywhere to take Obi-Wan back to. 

Vader rankles at the thought. He will not be stuck on Tatooine. Not ever again. Not even for Obi-Wan.

It takes another three hours for Obi-Wan to jerk to wakefulness. Anakin Skywalker would have pointed out that it had just past dawn twenty minutes ago and urged his Master to get more sleep before starting out. Vader just tilts his head in greeting. Obi-Wan blanches and Vader feels the corners of his mouth pull up. Even now, even with everything in flux and desperation--the old, old feeling, the one that used to choke Anakin Skywalker half to death when he watched Ahsoka go down in a fight, when Rex was shot at, when Padme was dying in his dreams, when Obi-Wan looked at him with blood and ash and tears on his face-- crawling up his throat, Vader can still put his old Master off his game. Some things never stopped being satisfying. 

“Home, then, Master?” He keeps his voice soft, kind, calm.  _ You catch more flies with honey than vinegar, dear one,  _ Obi-Wan had told Anakin when he was twelve and getting into too many fights with other Padawans. 

Obi-Wan had not called Anakin “dear one” for a very long time before the end. Maybe this one will.

“This is decidedly not your home, Vader,” Obi-Wan answers in a voice like cracked glass. He huffs, getting to his feet slowly--sore, probably, from their fall the day before, but it serves him right for trying a move like that, the obstinate old fool-- and pauses to blink disconcertedly at Vader’s cloak as it puddles at his feet. 

“It’s not your home either, Master.”

Something makes Obi-Wan pause at that, and Vader considers the Jedi as that terrible range of emotions flashes across his face again. The guilt is more present now than ever. But Obi-Wan simply shakes his head and looks away after a moment. “It must be.”

_ This is it. This is your way in. _ “It doesn’t, you know.”  _ Careful Vader. _

“You do not know of which you speak,” Obi-Wan replies cryptically. Vader rolls his eyes behind his back as the Jedi turns and gathers his supplies. 

“You home is with me, Obi-Wan. It always has been. It always will be.”

And then, oh, then--

Obi-Wan turns to him, eyes searching, something horrible behind them. The grief is back, and guilt never left his weary face, but there is some desperate cloying thing there, and the hope--the hope threatens to kill them both just with its light in Obi-Wan’s eyes--

And then Obi-Wan’s Force presence brushes against Vader’s mental shields, questioning, wary, barely there. And Vader cannot help but pounce.

The Darkness in his soul wells up, threatening to engulf Obi-Wan’s light as Vader throws down his shields with reckless abandon, reaching out and hooking claws into the light Obi-Wan extends to him. It is  _ warm _ , so warm and bright and  _ he has missed it _ , terribly. For a second, he cares not for his carefully laid plans, his strategies, the voice of Anakin Skywalker, ever-present as it is, screaming for his Master’s safety in the back of Vader’s head. 

His Force signature has always been so strong. Obi-Wan told him once, as a child, holding Anakin’s hands gently in his own, that he had to be careful with it. “You shine very brightly, Anakin,” Obi-Wan had said, blue eyes burning into his. “You are like a sun. But if you push people to look directly at you, they may be blinded. You must strive to only use as much as necessary, and no more. Do you understand?”

Vader does not care.

His darkness swirls around the bright Light of his Master and Vader clings to it greedily. _He’s here, he’s here, he’s alive_ , Vader’s mind sings, and he does not care that the Light struggles like a fish out of water in his grasp because it is _his._ Vader is never going to let go--

A burst of power in the Force shoves Vader back so far his heels skid along the back wall of the cave. The Light wriggles away and although he reaches, clawed and snarling, Obi-Wan’s shields slam back into place. And his Master has always had the best shields in the Order. 

“You can’t escape me, Obi-Wan.” Vader gasps, breathless, exhilarated. Anakin Skywalker wails in his mind, horrified, cringing. “I am where you belong.”

Obi-Wan straightens his spine and swipes the back of a hand across his mouth. His skin looks grey in the early morning light. “Liar,” he says. It is said weakly. Vader smiles and reaches to steady him when the older man nearly trips out of the cave. 

Obi-Wan does not look at him when he shakes his hands off. 

Obi-Wan leads him across the Jundland Wastes, footing sure and true all the while; it makes Vader's gorge rise to think about how long he must have been here, to know these sands so well. Newcomers were always so evident when Anakin saw them as a child. They’d never learned to walk on sand before, and had a tendency to sink knee deep into it if they weren’t careful, like walking on new snow. Obi-Wan crosses the terrain as if he were light as a feather. 

Obi-Wan’s home, it has to be said, is little more than a hovel. Vader isn’t sure whether to laugh at it or cry at the indignity his old Master has been forced into. But by the Force what has happened here? Surely his other self, the one of this world, must be dead. Vader would never let his Obi-Wan live in this squalor, and while Anakin Skywalker was weak and unsure, he would never have stood for it either. 

Obi-Wan does not seem to sense his restlessness, most likely keeping his shields high after their encounter in the cave, so he moves forward, undaunted, as Vader lags behind. But the door to the little stone hut opens before the Jedi’s fingers reach for it. Panic pervades Vader’s senses for a minute, countless scenarios of attack running through his mind before reality sets in. A man steps from Obi-Wan’s home, straightening to a rather impressive height under the glaring mid-morning sun. His hair floats in the wind and his light cloak whips against his knees. 

“Well,” a very much alive Qui-Gon Jinn says serenely, “this is very interesting.”

Vader bares his teeth. 


End file.
